


Friends With a Big "F"

by dirtymudblood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angry Sex, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtymudblood/pseuds/dirtymudblood
Summary: “This isn’t working.”She was already halfway buttoned up when she turned to face him. His slacks still unbuttoned and his shirt open around his shoulder, which he gave no indication of closing anytime soon.Hermione rolled her eyes, continuing to do up her blouse. “We just finished. Give it a moment. Besides, I have to be—““No, not this,” Draco scoffs, gesturing to his open trousers. “This.”She blinks carefully, watching his long fingers extend from his own chest to hers.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 25
Kudos: 740





	Friends With a Big "F"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ComfortableSilences](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComfortableSilences/gifts).



> It's my baby loves ComfortableSilence's birthday (yesterday) and so, of course, I had to write her a little something. Wish her a happy birthday, a happy halloween, and also check out the many amazing things she's written in celebration! 
> 
> I love you and I am so thankful that I've met you.

“This isn’t working.”

She was already halfway buttoned up when she turned to face him. His slacks still unbuttoned and his shirt open around his shoulder, which he gave no indication of closing anytime soon.

Hermione rolled her eyes, continuing to do up her blouse. “We just finished. Give it a moment. Besides, I have to be—“

“No, not _this,”_ Draco scoffs, gesturing to his open trousers. “ _This.”_

She blinks carefully, watching his long fingers extend from his own chest to hers. Her brows furrow. 

“Malfoy, what--” and then it hits her suddenly, “Oh… _Oh.”_

Draco nods slowly, beginning to tuck his shirt into the waistband of his slacks and smooth down the hair that was endearingly tousled from their previous activities. Hermione continues to stare at his flushed face while he doesn’t meet her eye, trying to absorb what he had just said. 

What they had was _good. Very_ good, if she could say so herself. Beyond the physical chemistry that was undeniable, they complimented each other well.

At work, they were an unstoppable force. They had been paired together within their first year working at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He protected her weak spots and she was great at setting him up for clear shots. 

That chemistry is what nearly threw them together inside a ministry coat closet during the annual Halloween ball and that’s what kept them together nearly a year later. 

Never in a bed, never a meal after, but sometimes they would lay across her desk with its things strewn across the floor, her head propped up on his shoulder and running lazy circles on his belly while he wound a curl around his finger; they would talk. About his parents, about her friends, about their dreams for the future. 

A year later and they practically knew everything about each other without ever seeing each other outside the ministry walls. 

“I don’t-- is it-- why?” 

Draco stops fussing with his hair and sighs, sucking his cheek into his mouth to bite on it. “How long have we been doing this?”

“I’m not-- a year or so.”

“Right,” he sighs again. “A year of casual shags on your desk or on the ground or against the door.”

“I don’t see what’s so wrong about that,” Hermione smooths down her skirt and suddenly feels very bare despite being fully dressed. 

“You don’t talk to me outside this room.”

“Yes, I--”

“Meetings don’t count, Granger,” he snaps. “You ignore me. Especially when your little friends are around. Alright, I can look past that. I can only imagine their reactions and perhaps you weren’t ready for that.”

He begins to adjust his tie. “I ask you to come to the manor. You say no. Sure, I can understand, that’s not the most pleasant place for you.”

He puts on his coat. “So then I ask to go to your flat. I ask you to visit Paris with me. I ask to take you somewhere you won’t be as embarrassed of me--”

“I am _not--”_

He sneers. “Don’t _lie._ You _are._ And you’re so caught up in how well this arrangement is working for _you_ that you’ve failed to see that I no longer wish to be kept hidden in your office.” 

Hermione sputters. She feels sick watching him grab his belongings from the ground. “Please stop.”

He doesn’t. He doesn’t look up while he splits his shoes on and ties them. “I didn’t know.”

She didn’t. She didn’t. She thought their _arrangement_ was agreed upon. That it was mutually beneficial for them. She thought those invitations to dinner or to Paris or to go back to her flat was him trying to be _nice,_ like inviting a friend over when you really just want to go home alone. And so she always said no. 

Draco laughs at this. “Of course you didn’t, Granger. You never cared to.”

He’s being cruel. She knows him enough now to know it’s him protecting himself. He’s feeling vulnerable and so he’s lashing out, but that doesn’t stop her stomach from rolling at the tone of his voice. He hasn’t spoken to her that way in years. 

“Just stop for a moment, won’t you?”

He doesn’t. He moves to open the door and she panics. 

“ _Draco.”_

He does turn at that. His lips parted slightly in shock. She had never called him by his given name. Not while in the throws of passion or otherwise. She uses his frozen shock to her advantage and moves cautiously towards him. 

“Just-- Just talk to me,” she whispers, “Please. I _really_ didn’t know.”

His eyes are soft now, as if realizing she really may have just been oblivious and not purposely ignoring his feelings. This is the Malfoy she knows now. This is the way he looks at her. And she feels so stupid because how had she never seen it before? 

He lets go of the doorknob and slides the hand up her arm and around the crook of her neck. His hands are large and warm and his fingers press into the space behind her ears that makes her shiver. 

“Perhaps I’ve been rash. I’m sorry for that.” Hermione nods and presses her head further against his hand. “I’m lonely, Granger. These-- _This_ is what I live for now. When I’ll get to see you next. How long you’ll let me stay. And it’s not fair to me, or to you, to continue this if we’re not in agreement with where we stand or where we want to go.”

Hermione swallows harshly. It’s all happening so fast. Just a moment ago her head was hanging off the edge of her desk as Malfoy savagely fucked her from behind and now he’s gently stroking her neck and confessing his feelings for her. 

“Granger.” 

She opens her eyes to meet his. They’re pleading and wide and unguarded. For her. 

“Go to the ministry’s Halloween ball with me. Together. I’ll pick you up at your flat. I’ll wear a fucking tie that matches your dress,” he laughs but it sounds more like a sigh, “I’ll buy you dinner after. Just,” his thumb touches her bottom lip. “Just please let me have you.”

The first thing she thinks of is Ron. Even though their split was amicable and now years ago, he would have a fit if he saw Hermione on Malfoy’s arm. Harry would be less obviously upset, but would still question her. Question their friendship.

“Draco, I--” It was all too soon. “I can’t.”

The warmth was gone. He pulls his hand away as if she had burned him and his mouth curls into a thin grimace. “I see.”

He moves for the door again and Hermione lunges to cover the hand holding the knob with her own. “I-I just mean I can’t go to the ball. It’s too-- too sudden.”

“Sudden.”

His lips pull back from his teeth as if the word disgusts him. 

“I-- _yes._ Yes, how could I explain it to Harry or Ron?”

“Right. Of course.”

He plucks the hand on top of his out of the way to open the door, but before he does she huffs loudly. “You’re being unreasonable!”

Draco blinks at her. “Unreasonable?” he towers over her, so menacing she can’t help but take a step back. “You know what’s unreasonable? That you won’t go to a fucking dance with me becuase you’re worried it will upset your friends. This isn’t bloody Hogwarts, Granger, you’re a grown woman. Your friends may not trust your choices, but I do. So I’m giving you a choice now. Either you agree to go with me or I leave and we pretend this past year never happened.”

She says nothing. This isn’t something she’s used to. She’s never made a decision like this before. She wants to research. She wanted to write out a pros and cons list. She wants to have _time_ to _think_ but he can’t afford her that. 

And with a sneer, he leaves, the echo of her slammed office door ringing in her ears for hours to come. 

* * *

Her dress was beautiful. A silky green number with a slit up one side to expose her leg as she walks. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t considered how _he_ would like the dress when she and Ginny had purchased it for her Halloween costume. She had charmed her curls to move on their own accord and the gold belt that cinched her waist made her a perfect modern day Medusa. 

Hermione sighed, running her hands over the sleek fabric. She didn’t even want to go to this stupid bloody ball anymore. She wanted to stay home and wallow in her stupid decisions until she inevitably died alone. But she had promised Ginny she’d go and a promise to Ginny was more binding than an unbreakable vow. 

The vow would at least kill you, Ginny would make you live with the guilt forever. 

It’s just she knew he’d be there. He had to. It was mandatory for all DMLE employees to attend the Halloween ball, which you could not get out of for any less than the death of your mother or the birth of your first child. 

The first day without _him_ Hermione thought she’d be fine. It wasn’t even noticeable, really. She went into her office, did her days work, and went home at the end of the day. Draco, whose office was right across from hers, had kept his door shut for the first time in the years they had worked together. 

That night, Hermione slept soundly. Confident in her decision. Her and Draco would never work as a couple and the desperation for him she felt that night he left was merely at the loss of their physical intimacy. 

The second day was the hardest. She glanced up what felt like every few minutes to check to see if his door would open. She paced the halls thinking perhaps she’d accidentally run into him. She even drank an extra three cups of coffee so she had an excuse to leave her office and pass his door. 

That night she didn’t sleep. She tried to blame it on the excessive coffee, but when she didn’t sleep the next day or the day after that, she knew it was beyond that. She missed him. 

She missed fucking him, yes, but it was so much more than that. She missed _talking_ to him. She missed the way he smelled and how the scars on his chest felt under her fingertips. 

Maybe they could talk tonight. Maybe she’d ask him for a dance, tell Harry and Ron it was just a co-worker formality. It would warm them up to the idea of him, at least. 

“Ready, Hermione?” Ginny’s voice called out from the fireplace. 

_Yes,_ she thought, _I’m ready. I can fix this._

* * *

She was already on her fourth flute of champagne and it had only been an hour. And she was going to need much, much more if she was to survive the remainder of the night. 

Ginny and Harry had accompanied her through the floo to meet Ron and Lavender, who had reconnected after their split, in the ministry ballroom. 

Hermione scanned the room for Draco’s familiar blonde hair and smiled when she spotted him across the hall. He looked like a bandit or reminded Hermione of the Dread Pirate Roberts with the black fabric across his eyes and the open black blouse that exposed his pale chest. 

With a quick excuse to her friends, Hermione moved to cross the floor and go to him. To tell him she was wrong and that she _did_ fancy him and that she was _sorry_ she hadn’t seen it before and if he just gave her one more chance--

The wind was knocked out of her with an audible gasp when she saw a manicured hand curl around his chest and dip into the opening of his shirt. Pansy Parkinson was a beautiful woman. A small, curvaceous woman with sharp features and a short bob that accentuated them. And she was practically clinging to him. And he was _letting her._

A whimper escaped her lips, she felt her heart sink into her stomach. And then he looked up too and met her eyes. For a moment, regret and longing flashed through them before they turned to steel and he turned his attention to Pansy once more. 

So now Hermione was tucked into a corner of the room, practically guzzling alcohol while her friends joked and laughed around her. It was miserable. 

She had met Draco’s gaze more than once, each time scowling or sneering at him until he’d turn away again. If he wanted to be with Pansy, if he wanted to dance with Pansy, if he wanted to go to bloody Paris with _Pansy_ that was all well and good. 

“I need some air.” 

Hermione pushed against Ron’s chest to make room for her to slide through the crowd of her friend’s worried faces as she made for the door. This was stupid. She was stupid. 

The October air was unforgiving, but welcome on Hermione’s skin. It felt like a punishment to allow herself to be so cold. She wrapped her arms around herself and trembled slightly, because of the temperature or her emotions she was unsure. 

“You’re a witch, you know.” A voice sounded from behind her and Hermione gasped, whirling around to come face to face with Draco. 

The black fabric around his eyes made them stand out in a piercing grey, even in the low light of the lamps. She was close enough that she could see the slight goosebumps on his chest from where the cool breeze stroked his skin. 

“I haven’t forgotten,” she sneered at him, tucking her arms more tightly around herself. 

Draco frowned. “Could have fooled me considering you’ve been shivering for over 5 minutes without casting a warmth charm.”

Hermione’s cheeks burned. “Well thank you for the reminder, Malfoy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I came out here alone for a reason.”

She quickly turned, letting her animated curls cover her face from his view. She heard him huff indignantly. “What is your problem, Granger? You’ve been making faces at me all night and I’ve not said a word to you.”

“Well that’s the problem, isn’t it?” She hated how her voice wobbled slightly and she winced. 

“What?”

“You’ve _not_ said a word to me. Not in a _week,_ in fact. What is it, Malfoy?” Hermione whirled around to face him. “You say you want me and then you show up here with Parkinson not even a week later. Is it because you’re lonely? Does it not even matter what witch it is as long she has a warm--”

“Fuck you, Granger.” he spat at her, advancing forward. 

“You already have, _Malfoy.”_ she hissed back. 

They were nearly touching now, their panting chests just millimeters from grazing each other. 

“ _You,”_ Draco started carefully. “were the one who said no. Sorry I didn’t feel like waiting _another_ year for you to make up your mind.”

Hermione threw her hands up in exasperation. “I didn’t need a year, arsehole, but more than _five seconds_ would have been nice.”

“You shouldn’t _need_ five seconds to decide if you want to go to a fucking _dance.”_

“But it’s not just a dance, Draco,” her voice broke, desperate and pleading. “Don’t you understand? It’s not just a dance. It’s… it’s _us.”_

Draco blinked, his lips parted slightly, but he remained silent. 

“Forget it. Just… forget it. Go back to Pansy, I’m going home.”

She bypassed her friends, ignoring their calls to her. Before the flames took her away, she spared one last glance at Draco, who had just burst through the ministry doors looking furious.

* * *

Hermione ran a hand over her face, feeling defeated and tired and _heartbroken._ She dragged herself to her room and quickly charmed her hair, letting it fall limply around her shoulders. She had just begun to take off the belt of her dress when she heard the rush of the floo in her living room. She sighed, having forgotten to ward it and disallow anyone from entering meant that her friends had probably followed her.

“Harry?” she called out, but the heavy footsteps did not respond, instead stopping in front of her bedroom door. 

“Look, I’m sorry I had to go--” when the door swung open, she was face to face with Draco who had a face so red it could rival any Weasley. 

“Malfoy, listen--”

“No,” began stalking forward. Hermione waked backwards to match his movements until the backs of her knees hit the edge of her mattress. “ _You_ listen. You are so fucking _selfish.”_

“ _Selfish_?” 

“Yes,” he hissed, “You are so _fucking_ …” he took a breath to steady himself. “I don’t know what you want from me.” 

“I’m--”

“I mean,” he ran a hand through his hair making it stick out on all ends. His eyes behind the mask were blazing. “You reject me, so Merlin forbid I try to find someone else. Pansy? Really, Granger? You think I want _Pansy?”_

Hermione licked her lips nervously. “I just--”

Draco pressed on. “Of course I don’t want Pansy fucking Parkinson. But she was supposed to distract me from _you,_ Granger. And then I get there and all you do is sneer at me and _fuck_ do you even _know_ what this dress does to me?” 

Hermione stood still as he ran his hands along her waist, feeling the cool fabric under his fingers and trailing his thumbs over the underside of her breasts. He groaned when he noticed her slight shiver and hardening of her nipples through her dress.

“You win. You fucking win, Granger.”

Hermione yelped as she was pushed back onto the bed roughly, her legs dangling off the edge. Before she could protest, Draco was on his knees in front of her. 

“Is this what you want, Granger?” He roughly pushed up the hem of her dress until it pooled around her waist. “Is this all I’m good for to you?”

“No--” Hermione hissed when he ran a finger gently over the seam of her nether lips through her panties, a stark contrast to the almost punishing way he was gripping her thigh with his other hand. 

“Because that’s just fine by me. If this is the only way I can have you,” he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of her underwear and Hermione unconsciously lifted her hips slightly to help him slide them off. “then I’ll take what I can get.” 

It was almost painful, the way he lunged forward and attached his lips to her clit and sucked. Hermione bucked wildly; wanting more, wanting less, feeling overwhelmed with the familiar feeling of his tongue. But his strong hold on her thighs kept them spread apart for him, no matter how much she tried to close them. 

“Malfoy--”

She practically screamed when his lips left her cunt and was instead replaced by a hard smack of his hand against her already sensitive bud. 

“Shut your mouth, Granger.” He growled, using those same fingers to push into her opening and curl against the soft, sensitive muscles. 

She tried to stay quiet. He was punishing her, she knew that. The way he kept his fingers pressed against her g-spot, his tongue drawing quick patterns on her clit, making her tumble towards what she knew would be the most intense orgasm of her _life._ And then just as her inner muscles would contract, pulsing around his fingers, her breath coming just a tad too fast: he’d stop. Completely pull away, even blow cool air against her wet lips until she was nearly fucking the air, chasing any sort of friction to help her reach the end. And then he’d start again, rapidly pushing her back to the edge before denying her again. 

After one too many times, when Hermione could feel her hair sticking to her neck and her nails digging into her palms and her eyes watered with how _badly_ she wanted, _needed,_ to cum; she finally begged. 

“ _Please,_ Malfoy.”

He stood carefully, crawling his way over her until they were face to face. His knee kept her legs spread and it took all amounts of willpower for Hermione to not rut against the fabric. His mouth glistened with the remnants of her slick and Hermione reached up to lick it away with her tongue. 

Draco pulled back so that she couldn’t reach him and wrapped a hand around her throat, keeping her flat against the bed. 

“I said shut your mouth.” 

Hermione’s moan broke when he squeezed tightly, her airway constricted. Draco’s other hand scrambled to undo the button of his trousers, sliding his zipper down and unsheathing himself from his pants.

His grip on her throat relaxed slightly as he finally slid into her waiting quim. Hermione took a large gulp of air that fell into a moan when he bottomed out inside her. 

He fucked her slowly, too slowly. Dragging his cock out until she whined and then steadily pumping back into her. He kept one hand gripped onto her neck and the other pressed down on her stomach, simultaneously keeping her in place and pressing her inner muscles down onto himself further. 

“You’re so perfect,” he babbled. “Perfect fucking Granger and her perfect fucking pussy.” 

Hermione cried out at a particularly relentless thrust, reaching up to grip onto the collar of his shirt. “Stop, Draco.”

Every muscle in his body tensed, suddenly very still as he stopped midthrust. He only hesitated for a moment before pushing himself away from her, standing quickly at her feet. He swallowed harshly, “Hermione, I’m so--”

But he never got to finish his sentence as she sprang forward, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him onto the bed with her above him. He blinked up at her once, then twice, before Hermione dove forward to press her lips to his. Now that she was in control, this kiss was slow and languid. He drew circles on her thighs with his thumbs as she peppered kisses over his jaw, down his neck, over the opening of his shirt. 

“I shouldn’t have said no,” she said between kisses. 

“No, you shouldn't have.”

“But I did,” she reached behind her to unzip the dress, letting it fall from her shoulders and bunch around her hips. Draco’s eyes immediately fastened onto her tits, where they were heaving above him. “And I’m sorry.”

Draco’s gaze flickered up from her chest to meet hers. 

“I don’t want you to be a secret,” she reached in between them to grasp onto his cock, giving a few firm pumps before lining herself up and sinking slowly onto him. They both hissed as she circled her hips over his, letting her clit find friction against his pelvic bone. “I want this.”

She began to lift herself up, finding a pace that had them both grunting in pleasure. Draco let his hold fall to her waist and began meeting her thrust for thrust from below. 

Hermione gasped. “I want this. But I want other things, too.”

She was close, so much closer than he let her be before. 

“I want to go to Paris with you. I want to visit the manor. I want-- _fuck, Draco--_ I want… I want…”

She threw her head back, her moan low and deep and then a high pitched squeal as she came. Blissfully, finally. 

Draco grunted from below her, her contracting muscles drawing out his own release. They both stayed like that: panting, grasping at each other. 

“Do you mean it?” 

Hermione smiled lazily, letting herself fall forward to curl against his chest. “I do. I mean it.”

“Well,” he laughed, closing his eyes adjusting himself into a more comfortable position. “Took you fucking long enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Since she is my beta and could not read this over as it was a surprise, please ignore the (probably many) mistakes in here! But hope you enjoyed anyway <3
> 
> Let's chat: dirty-mudblood.tumblr.com


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